


come home

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy takes care of Jake when he gets hit in the head. Until she can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come home

Amy is a good nurse. It’s not a side of her Jake had seen before they were dating, and it doesn’t come naturally. It turns out that having a boyfriend with a propensity for getting knocked out by criminals brings out Amy’s inner mother-hen.

It brings out her mother, but Jake knows that making that comparison aloud would only lead to another bruise on his scalp.

Jake likes going to Amy’s apartment when he’s been hurt. It’s warm and soft and filled with trinkets that remind him that Amy’s immaculate desk isn’t every part of her. There’s always a bag of peas in the freezer and a freshly-laundered cloth on hand to wrap around them so his brain doesn’t freeze. They slot together on the couch, his back against her chest, and Amy holds the peas to the fresh lump on his head and sings quietly in Spanish until the swelling has gone down and the peas are squishy and useless.

Her voice is pretty and gentle and it makes Jake want to go to sleep, but when his eyes start to droop she pinches his arm. No sleeping after a head injury, she insists, and Jake rolls his eyes and rubs his thumb against the inside of her knee. Every so often she’ll lift off the wrapped bag and run her fingertips across the back of Jake’s head and she knows it’s working when he no longer hisses at the contact.

*  
Jake’s head hurts and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t remember how he used to deal with this except that he didn’t. His apartment is messy and the street outside is loud and there are no peas in his freezer. Why would there be peas in his freezer?

He’s probably concussed. He definitely shouldn’t be driving, but Amy’s not around to tell him off. Amy’s not around to take care of him. He drives to her apartment and parks outside, opposite her door. It’s dark and lifeless and there’s a sale sign outside that isn’t real but is real enough to make his heart sink into his stomach. He wants to go inside. He wants to smell her on the sheets, in the air. He wants to dust her ornaments and vacuum the carpet and disinfect the counters. He wants to use her peas and her cloth.

He has a key. But it’s just in case. It’s only to be used in the absolute worst case scenario; if she’s not going to come back.

She’s going to come back. She has to.

She’s going to save the world single-handedly and come back to carry on saving him.

Jake drives home slowly. He stops at a convenience store and picks up a bag of peas and a new dishcloth.

He takes two Advil and plops the bag on his head. It’s not the same. There’s no soft Spanish, no gentle touch, no one pinching him to keep him awake.

“Come home,” Jake whispers to no one, to himself, to Amy. “Just… come home.”


End file.
